


Embarking

by blanketed_in_stars



Series: 52 Weeks of Wolfstar [52]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Afterlife, Battle of Hogwarts, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 18:57:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5597056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blanketed_in_stars/pseuds/blanketed_in_stars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>2 May, 1998. An end, and a beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Embarking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ellacj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellacj/gifts).



> Week 52
> 
> As I did in Week 26 (the halfway point), I'd like to direct any fans of Swan Queen - or just any fans of good writing - to [my friend Ella's 52 Weeks,](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ellacj/pseuds/ellacj) which consist of 52 amazing Swan Queen one-shots. She's a great writer and she's been really dedicated to this challenge. In fact, she's the one who told me about it way back in January, so without her this series wouldn't even exist - so please go check out her stuff, it's honestly phenomenal.
> 
> I also want to say: to anyone who's commented, left kudos, or even read just one work from this series, thank you! This project has spanned some of the hardest weeks of my life, and knowing people are listening to what I have to say has made all the difference. I'm so grateful for all your advice and feedback and kind words of support. You're all tremendous! Happy New Year!

“What?” Remus says, his thoughts still half-tangled in details of Kingsley’s notes on their reconnaissance mission from last week. He rubs his face with both hands, trying to wake up. “Harry’s—where? At Hogwarts?”

“That’s what he heard from that kid, Largebottom or—”

“Longbottom,” Remus corrects automatically. “Neville.” He’d been about to clean up and go to bed, but it seems that’s no longer an option. “And he thinks they’re going to fight?”

Tonks nods. “Kingsley said he sounded pretty certain.”

“Well,” Remus says, rising from his chair, “I guess we’d better go, then.”

———

Tonks turns to him when they arrive, the other Order members—the few who remain after the havoc of the past few months—streaming past them up the steps of the Room of Requirement. “You’ll be careful?”

Remus can see that even while she waits for his answer, she’s scanning the crowd pushing by. Looking for Fleur. “Of course,” he says. “She’s behind you.”

To his surprise, Tonks doesn’t leave, though her face relaxes slightly. “Do you promise?” She holds his gaze.

For a moment Remus wants to say that he can’t keep that promise. Then he realizes that Tonks is much smarter than him, than anyone he’s ever known. He can’t promise to live, but he can promise to be careful. “I swear on my mother’s grave,” he tells her, hoping that she listens past the old-fashioned words and hears his sincerity.

It would seem from her expression that she does. She turns—

But Remus grabs her arm and holds her back. “Do you promise?”

She grins at him, showing dimples. “You have my word.” Now she’s mimicking him, her voice slipping into tones of false gravity, but the smile fades. “Yeah, Remus,” she says, “I promise.”

“Good.” He releases her and she moves towards Fleur; the crowd of students and outlaws surges between them, and she disappears.

———

Through the flashing streaks of light, through the dust, he sees her bending and dodging and reaching to deflect Bellatrix’s curses. He doesn’t have long to look before Yaxley recovers, but it’s long enough to see that she’s exhausted.

Well, Remus thinks, ducking away from a green spell, so is he. Duels like this aren’t a rare occurrence these days, but although he’s not out of practice, it seems he’s slowing down. It keeps showing up in little things—singed cuffs and tripping over rubble from the walls which are crumbling around him. He fights for breath and his own life and whirls back to face Yaxley again.

They trade curses for another minute or two. Remus doesn’t have the mental capacity to do anything other than pronounce whatever incantations spring to his lips. He thinks of nothing but movement and aim—but he catches sight of Dolohov down the corridor and knows, in a flash of intuition that he will never be able to explain, that he is headed for Tonks.

 _“Expelliarmus!”_ Remus cries, reduced to gambles in his desperation. He doesn’t wait to see if it hits, or how far Yaxley’s wand flies, but sprints towards Tonks, around the other duels and fallen bodies.

Dolohov still advances, intent on Tonks. He pays no heed to Remus.

Tonks, for her part, is far too focused on defending herself—and, he sees, sending tricky spells at Bellatrix—to notice. Her face is shiny with sweat and twisted in concentration, and her eyes dart to all possible weaknesses, except her own.

Remus can see the spell forming, Dolohov’s arm raised and his wand like an arrow pointed directly at Tonks’s head. He leaps forward, sends _Impedimenta_ shooting in a rush of turquoise light—at least it will buy her time—

—and Yaxley’s spell bursts against his back—

—and though it seemed to take an eternity to cross the corridor, he’s dead before he hits the ground.

 

———

 

_Warmth on his skin, the smell of spring, and the sound of water lapping at a shore…_

 

———

 

Remus opens his eyes to blinding light, and he thinks for a moment that he’s dying, except he remembers _screams, a crowded corridor, running, leaping, a sweeping green flash—_ and it all seems a bit redundant. He blinks against the brightness and the world gradually forms into recognizable shapes—the castle, the sloping lawn. And before him, Sirius.

He seems young, seventeen at most, though something about his eyes suggests many years lived laughing. But his gaze isn’t hollow and his skin doesn’t hang. There’s no photograph-fade to his color, no memory blurring his edges. “Hey, Moony,” he says, shaking his hair back from his face.

There are no wasted words between them before Remus kisses him full on the mouth. He breathes in the scent of him, leather and soap and the young green grass. This is a dream, he thinks, but by now he knows it’s not. No dream feels like this. He knots his fingers in Sirius’s hair and when they break apart, he catches his breath and says, “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

Sirius barks out a laugh so familiar that Remus can only smile, so wide his cheeks feel stretched. “Aren’t awful jokes more my territory?” he asks.

“Making up for lost time,” Remus murmurs, marveling at the hands on his neck and jaw and the chest pressed against his.

“Speaking of time,” Sirius says, “you’re early.” His voice turns accusing, though his tone’s still light, as if Remus has only mucked up a prank. “You’re not supposed to be here for years.” His gaze is clear. “Stupid, self-sacrificing hero, you are.”

The memory of the battle flutters at the edge of Remus’s thoughts again, but he brushes it aside—already it seems like little more than a bad dream. “I didn’t mean to die,” he says, tracing the lines of Sirius’s face with wondering fingers. “But—since I did, I’m glad it was for her.”

The corners of Sirius’s mouth quirk up. “I’m not sure she’ll thank you.”

That sends a lance of pain through Remus’s heart, as strong as the joy and all the sharper for the contrast. It doesn’t fit with this beauty, this calm, yet at the same time it seems necessary. He tells Sirius, “She doesn’t have to. She just has to live.” He thinks of bubblegum hair and her smile, bright as sunrise, the way she cares so intensely, like fire against a bleak grey sky. Her hope.

“I think she will,” Sirius says, resting his forehead against Remus’s. “We won’t be seeing her for a long time yet.”

“We,” Remus repeats, and despite the thrill of them, together, he pulls away. Looks around. “Is there anybody else?”

Sirius grins. “Everybody’s here.”

Remus cranes his neck, looking for them, but the grounds are deserted. “Where?”

Gently, Sirius takes his hand. “They’ll be along,” he says. “There’s no rush.”

“Then why are you here?”

Sirius’s eyes crinkle as he laughs, young and old at once. “I’ve been waiting for you, of course. I knew that whenever you showed up, this would be the place.” He waves an arm at the castle, the lake, the beech tree on the shore.

Remus starts walking for the tree, feeling a peculiar settling in his chest like some wound is knitting together. He keeps hold of Sirius’s hand as he goes. The ground beneath his feet is solid and the breeze is cool against his skin, but he still worries, irrationally, senselessly, that it’s all going to disappear.

“I’m real,” Sirius says quietly, walking beside him. It’s not that he has powers of telepathy in the afterlife, Remus is sure—just that he knows Remus, every wax and wane and tide of him, as Remus knows Sirius.

“I believe you.” They reach the tree and Remus sits with his back against the trunk, finding in the grass a leather-bound book that smells of the library. He traces the embossed cover with one hand and combs the fingers of the other through Sirius’s hair when he lies down with his head in Remus’s lap. Remus looks down at him and smiles. “Nice, this,” he says softly. It’s an understatement, but also exactly right.

“Very nice,” Sirius agrees, “and this is only one little part. Wait till you see—”

Remus laughs. Even here, Sirius has a dog’s enthusiasm and a dog’s bright, eager beauty. He tilts his head back and looks up through the crosshatching of leafy branches to the brilliant blue sky beyond. “If we’ve got forever, then we’ll get there eventually,” he says. The air is sweet in his lungs. “For now, I think this is a good way to start.”

**Author's Note:**

> "After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.”
> 
>      — _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_
> 
> Also, in case you're really into this stuff, I created [a few playlists](http://8tracks.com/blanketed_in_stars/collections/52-weeks-of-wolfstar/1) to go along with the series. Check 'em out if you feel like it!


End file.
